hortus conclusus

I have to admit I’ve been a little nervous about reviewing this perfume for my Tauer giveaway (enter the drawing here ) for several reasons. A: it has been reviewed often by better noses than I (although I know that’s no excuse, since I seem to have no trouble reviewing other famous scents). B: it has such a devoted following that I might alienate my readers if I say something they don’t like (not a problem, I think, since I love it as well) and C: how can I present L’air du Desert Marocain in a novel light? I thought maybe I would wait until I go on my August trip to Morocco, then talk about LDDM through my experiences there. But then I realized I couldn’t really keep you all waiting for the draw all summer. So, I’ve bitten the bullet, friends, and am sitting down to write about Andy Tauer’s most acclaimed creation. To put this scent to the test, I invited friends over for a Spanish/Moroccan feast at my place. I decided I would wear l’air du desert all night and see how it playe...

I always thought sangria was a stupid invention. I mean, why would you add citrus to wine? It seemed all wrong. Ditto orange in chocolate, coffee, etc. Why take two intense flavor profiles which have little in common—and what they have in common isn't something you want to enhance, like acidity—and then push them together into some Dr.. Frankenstein creation. Such was my line of thought as I sat out on my back patio, sipping my husband’s homemade sangria, which is nice as far as such things go, when I spritzed on Andy Tauer’s newest creation Orange Star, to review.   In a moment of serendipity, it all came together. When I smelled that intense, superfesh, almost Tang-like orange topnote in conjunction with the fabulous Tauer resinous incense, which here smells fabulously bitter, but in a nice way, like a good juicy orange peel, I understood so much more than the fragrance itself. I understood what it means to go out on a limb, to try something intense, problematic, difficult. ...

  First, a reminder to enter in the drawing for a Tauer Perfumes Discovery set HERE Enjoying a G & T on our pack patio last nig ht while my husband barbecued, I saw a hilarious thing. This little chipmunk was sitting, as still as can be, on my terracotta statuette of St. Francis of Assisi. Now, as you all probably know, St Francis is the patron saint of animals. The first real Western environmentalist, so to speak. So I thought it was pretty funny that this little creature chose to perch on the saint’s head as sanctuary from my cat Oliver, who was regarding the little chipmunk with, shall we say, an interested eye. Saint Francis must have been doing his job, for no great bloody drama ensued. I have been enjoying my little garden lately. It’s nothing special, but it’s mine, and things have been blooming like the dickens lately. The herbs—lavender, thyme, oregano, chives, tarragon, basil, dill, smell fabulous, as do the geranium leaves, the little roses, and the dirt i...

ADVENTURES IN SINAESTHESIA When the generous and enormously talented perfumer Andy Tauer was kind enough to send me samples of all his fragrances—and an adorable sample set to give away (details soon)—I was thrilled. I was especially thrilled to find a sample of his Vetiver Dance within one of the adorable embossed tins, for as you may know, I adore vetiver, and any fragrance with vetiver in the name is pretty exciting for me.   SO, I did what any self-respecting perfume-loving bon vivant would on a sunny Memorial Day weekend. I spritzed on Vetiver Dance and went on a picnic, prophesying that a vetiver fragrance would go well with a sunny day down by the river. I was right! Vetiver Dance opens up with a bouquet of pepper, rose, and citrus—Grapefruit, yes, I can detect that..and stays fruity for quite a while. This makes it go very well with the gin and tonics my beloved had the foresight to pack in our picnic basket! In fact, this fragrance played very well with all the food we...

  In The Arc Of Your Mallet Don't go anywhere without me. Let nothing happen in the sky apart from me, or on the ground, in this world or that world, without my being in its happening. Vision, see nothing I don't see. Language, say nothing. The way the night knows itself with the moon, be that with me. Be the rose nearest to the thorn that I am. I want to feel myself in you when you taste food, in the arc of your mallet when you work, when you visit friends, when you go up on the roof by yourself at night. There's nothing worse than to walk out along the street without you. I don't know where I'm going. You're the road, and the knower of roads, more than maps, more than love. Translation of Rumi by Coleman Barks I am obsessed with Persia, and have always been, but alas, political tensions ...

In Salman Rushdie’s Moor’s Last Sigh , a spice heiress and a manager succumb to their passion for one another and make love on sacks of pepper. This scene won Rushdie the award for bad sex writing . I guess the line that seems to especially offend people’s sensitivities is the admittedly very stupid-sounding: “For ever they sweated pepper n’ spice sweat.” Ok, fair enough, that sounds pretty mojo-killing. But I remember the first time I read this novel (when it came out. I admit to being a Rushdie fan), and I remember that I thought this scene was pretty hot. not the terrible n’,  but the scene in general. Reader, what do you think: link to this page of the The Moor’s Last Sigh I found myself thinking of it again, dear readers, when I spritzed on The Different Company’s Rose Poivrée —after the inevitable sneeze, I thought, what a sexy scent, with its pepper, civet, rose, cumin, and coriander, and then all these images of sexy Indian heiresses and their str...